


for he gave all his heart and lost

by koroshiyas (lucitae)



Series: never give all the heart, for love [8]
Category: Wanna One (Band)
Genre: 50 First Dates AU, Alternate Universe - Demons, Angst, M/M, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2019-02-17 13:34:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13077945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucitae/pseuds/koroshiyas
Summary: If you think you’re that unforgettable, the demon taunts with pretty lips accompanying a pretty face,I’ll make sure no one remembers you.And this is how Seongwoo ends up dating Minhyun for the first time — fifty days in a row.





	for he gave all his heart and lost

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt:  
> 50 first date o/h. Where one of them had his memory reset after 24 hour.
> 
> Happy New Year! I promised to start the year off with a bang so...
> 
> I changed it around a bit. Memory reset only happens after falling asleep (REM). There's no 50 first date crack either... it's just angst from head to toe. We begin and end with messes of angst.
> 
> And as always, a shout out for my kouhai who held my hand through four break downs while I wrote this drabble (fic. it really is the length of a fic).

 “Today’s the last day, isn’t it?” Minhyun speaks up from where he stands, even though the blank space between the red circle and a series of Xs on the calendar confirms the statement.

The curtains are pulled shut. Half an hour past noon. The sun is still bright enough to filter in: making Minhyun a silhouette ; casting shadows throughout the room.

Seongwoo takes a step closer. “It is.”

There’s a sense of clarity in Minhyun’s eyes. Shoulders sag with resolution. An air of relief as he steadies a hand on the back of a chair, lips curling into a soft smile that tugs at Seongwoo’s heart.

Seongwoo can still hear that broken voice every time he closes his eyes, trying to swallow down the guilt that sticks to the back of his throat as he slides under the covers next to Minhyun, but gets drowned by it each night. And Minhyun always turns around at the right moment, hands findings his or legs tangling with his, eyes affectionate as he comforts Seongwoo with repeated invocations of his name. ( As if it always belonged there. As if it would always belong there. As if it was something permanent and etched into skin. As if when morning comes these same eyes — so full of love — will lack any sense of recognition. As if Seongwoo wouldn’t have to reintroduce himself all over again. )

 

 

 

“Do you know what it is like,” Minhyun had spat with a tight jaw, with clenched fists, with shoulders squared and honestly Seongwoo would just let him give him two black eyes if it meant that he didn’t have to deal with this much guilt anymore — why he had decided to fess up in the first place, “to wake up with a stranger in bed and trying to hold back that sense of panic as you recall yesterday’s memories: only to realize that you went to bed undoubtedly sober? And then you look to the clock on the bedside table to realize that half a year has lapsed.”

And what can Seongwoo do but hang his head and feel small because sorry doesn’t cut it. Especially not in this situation. This wasn’t caused by a car accident or a brain tumor. This was a curse because Seongwoo was too stupid, too arrogant.

( _If you think you’re that unforgettable_ , the demon taunts with pretty lips accompanying a pretty face, pleased at the prospects of someone to toy with to give him a refreshing break from boredom, _I’ll make sure no one remembers you_. )

It had been fine when there was just a mere string of one night lovers. Made things easier that way because they wouldn’t remember or get attached and Seongwoo left with all the benefits of satiation.

But then he had met a man so handsome that before Seongwoo realized, the man had somehow managed to worm his way into his heart, eat away at it until he seemed to notice whenever the man was around. And then that one instance on a rainy day where he had crouched down next to a litter of abandoned creatures that mewled pathetically and shared what he could, leaving his umbrella behind and ran back to his apartment completely drenched.

Seongwoo realized a bit too late. It took him almost two months before he realized that the man had been inflicted by his curse. That while he hadn’t fully realized, his heart already had a mind of its own. And Seongwoo tried to stay away, to forget, to change but all of that failed miserably because his heart was just as stubborn as he was ( of course it is ).

( _50 days_ , the demon cackled, eyes twinkling, the game finally beginning after a year long wait, _if he remembers you by the end of it, I’ll reverse the spell_. But the way he laughed gave away how much he believed it would work. )

“No memory of the time in between as if you were in a coma. But you weren’t.” Minhyun looks at the ceiling and blinks. Seongwoo’s heart plummets as he chokes on the turmoil. “Sticky notes reminding you to check, to trust in a notebook and videos and praying that your past self hasn’t withheld anything from the current you. But who can you trust when you can’t even trust your own mind?”

 

 

 

That was a little over a week into their fifty days but the words, the way Minhyun looked, still haunt him. The end is finally in sight. In a few hours, after Minhyun has fallen asleep, Seongwoo will have to leave and take his things that have somehow found their way to Minhyun’s place with him or watch them be burned — like the pages in the notebook that give Minhyun a brief overview of who he is, like the sticky notes that remind Minhyun over and over again to not forget the name of someone precious, like the recordings that will wind up with static noise that go in detail about the days events that have all somehow started to revolve around Seongwoo. That minor compromise that seemed to give a sense of hope was merely another tool to enhance someone’s sadistic sense of entertainment.

Hope allows for a greater sense of loss and disappointment — the cruelest thing of all.

“What shall we do today?” Minhyun asks, voice drenched in that fleeting, empty feeling.

Seongwoo forces a smile on his face, the kind that doesn’t reach his eyes, the kind so fragile Minhyun sees through it with a glance. “Whatever you want,” he finishes.

“I want…” Minhyun looks down at his hands, watches them furl and unfurl. “To remember you.” At the last syllable he looks up, meeting Seongwoo’s eyes, compels him to close the distance, to reach out and cup Minhyun’s cheek — to hold onto the one who means the most.

Minhyun smiles, smug, giving one sweeping look over Seongwoo’s lips. And really, they probably do have better things to do on their last day but all Seongwoo wants to do is remember this for the rest of eternity. Even if Minhyun forgets. Even when Minhyun brushes past his shoulder and gives him an apology out of politeness towards a stranger, Seongwoo wants to cherish this moment until the day his own body fails him.

“Tell me what to do,” Seongwoo says, breath ghosting over Minhyun’s lips.

“Nothing you don’t already know,” Minhyun answers before meeting Seongwoo’s lips with his own in a way that makes it easier for his tongue to slip into Seongwoo’s mouth, in a way that makes Seongwoo forget he has knees at all.

There’s a smile that dances on Minhyun’s lips when he feels the curl of Seongwoo’s fingers, digging into the collar of his shirt, causing wrinkles as he bunches them in his fists. To hold on. To drag him elsewhere. To glower at him with a set of eyes that makes Minhyun shiver and wonder how he did not know them before today.

( Well he does, apparently. But this morning he woke up with adrenaline coursing through his veins, wondering what was the most appropriate objects to defend himself against a stranger in bed, and it took two hours and breakfast cooked the way he liked before he allowed himself to believe in the videos he tapes each night before bed and the pocket sized notebook on his bedside table. And Seongwoo — the way he presents himself, the way he brings Minhyun a cup of tea before he asks for it, the way he looks at Minhyun — makes it so easy to believe. )

Seongwoo gasps against Minhyun’s mouth. It’s fascinating. Watching how Seongwoo screws his eyes shut from how Minhyun skims his nails against the skin just above the waistband. Watching how his eyes grow dark with desire even though Minhyun’s certain that the him before today, the him before yesterday, and the him before that might have done the exact same thing. It’s fascinating. How watching Seongwoo’s eyes grow dark and catching the growl that follows sparks the same dark curl in the pits of his stomach in a way that makes it hard for Minhyun to believe he had only met Seongwoo today.

( Of course he hasn’t. He had fallen asleep last night with his arms around Seongwoo’s waist, contorting his body to conform to the shape of Seongwoo’s spine, after smiling like a fool in Seongwoo’s direction as he filmed his end of the night recollection. )

Seongwoo’s back slams against the wall of the corridor from the way Minhyun leans into him. So he counters with a foot against an ankle, forcing Minhyun back, pressing up against Minhyun open mouthed and desperate.

It’s near the door to the bedroom where Minhyun successfully hooks his fingers under the hem of Seongwoo’s shirt and tugs it off.

And Seongwoo nearly makes off with Minhyun’s but fails when Minhyun feels the sheets brushing against his bare calves and topples backwards. Seongwoo’s arms and one knee are the only things that keep him from crushing Minhyun under his weight. And he watches Minhyun while catching his breath, a heartbeat or five elapsing before he slides back.

The sudden gap forces Minhyun to sit up.

Seongwoo’s fingers hesitate as they reach for the hem of Minhyun’s shirt. He tilts his head to the side, something unidentifiable swimming underneath the surface of his eyes. A moment passes. Minhyun can feel the tips of his ears growing red. Another moment passes before Seongwoo asks: “May I?”

“I’d rather you enjoy the show.” Minhyun doesn’t know where it comes from ( can’t recall it ) but he gives Seongwoo a smile that borderlines cocky as he allows his arms to cross, tugging off his shirt like he’s done it a million times before.

( He has: knees straddling Seongwoo as he pulls off his own shirt, smirking at the way Seongwoo’s cock twitches from the sight alone. )

“Let me do the rest,” Seongwoo says, voice low and almost quiet, eyes searching Minhyun’s as he reaches out, thumb trailing along Minhyun’s jaw, “please.” The last part is uttered degrees away from despair, making Minhyun wonder who has the shorter end of the stick. What’s more painful: to be forgotten or to forget?

( _To forget_ , Seongwoo would say, lips pressing against Minhyun’s forehead, trying to obscure his face from view so that Minhyun doesn’t see how Seongwoo breaks every morning — yesterday’s fondness replaced by fear. )

Seongwoo drags his thumb against Minhyun’s cheek in a sweeping pattern, back and forth for a few times, as if to enshrine the texture into memory or leave a deep enough imprint that Minhyun won’t forget this time around. Minhyun closes his eyes. The dark fan of lashes contrast against pale skin, bringing out the color in his lips, tempting Seongwoo to steal them for himself again but refrains.

The shutter of his heart snaps shut when Minhyun’s eyes flutter open. Gaze inquisitive when he asks: “what are you thinking about?”

And where should Seongwoo begin?

A week ago they sped to Busan, voices harmonizing over the music that spilled in through the speakers, and that evening Minhyun had experienced the full range of Seongwoo’s explicatives as Seongwoo had worked his hips in that cramped space of the car. Minhyun had cleaned him off after that, using the back of his hand to wipe away the droplets of sweat that beaded upon Seongwoo’s forehead. A week ago they sped to Busan, trying to stay up as late as they could, but Seongwoo had to convince Minhyun that he didn’t abduct him the next morning.

The first time they did it, with a heart beating just as rapidly as it does now, Minhyun had pressed his fingers against each and every one of Seongwoo’s moles, allowing his fingers to dance across skin in a way that caused the conflagration to consume Seongwoo whole — short circuiting his brain. “They’re beautiful,” Minhyun had said, voice drenched in disappointment after learning that Seongwoo wanted to burn them all away, adding extra emphasis by pressing his lips into the center of a triangle the three moles on his cheeks make.

Or how when Minhyun says his name in a way that almost seems reverent has Seongwoo convinced that maybe tomorrow they have a chance. Minhyun will wake up with a soft smile, eyes full of affection, voice still husky from sleep and greet him with a _good morning_.

But instead all Seongwoo says with a coquettish grin is: “we should fuck like the world is about to end.”

It elicits a laugh from Minhyun, head tilting back, the noise filling the atmosphere and Seongwoo’s chest.

Seongwoo parts Minhyun’s legs with a knee, making room for himself to kneel, and allows his hand to travel. The laughter dies as Minhyun watches with a sense of fox like curiosity.

Seongwoo’s fingers touch the corner of Minhyun’s eyes, where the lashes start to tangle with each other, edges of sweeping lines meet adding that mesmerizing charm to them. Then along the bridge of his nose so perfect that Seongwoo gaped for minutes when Minhyun had told him how he didn’t care for his own face. The shell of Minhyun’s ear fits perfectly into the palm of Seongwoo’s hands, always in a shade more honest than what words will ever divulge. Cheekbones high enough to add an air of refinement. The divot above lips that Seongwoo dips his finger into before sliding down to make a lap around lips swollen from earlier.

Seongwoo drags the pad of his index finger around the Adam’s apple, coming to a rest against the carotid pulse, where a small dot lies nearly identical to the one on Seongwoo’s neck on the opposite side, a contrast against the pale skin where a flush of red begins to bleed into. Seongwoo adds another finger, pressing gently against the mole, as a smile grows on his face at how the pace matches with his own.

But it isn’t enough. All this reverence barely skims the surface — merely an echo of how much Minhyun means to Seongwoo. And Seongwoo needs Minhyun to understand.

The mattress gives as Seongwoo shifts his weight, leaning in to swipe that expanse of skin with his tongue ( like Minhyun has often done to the three on his chest ) — the extension of the heart, the last place where a pulse may be felt. He rolls skin between teeth and listens to the way his name on Minhyun’s lips falls into two distinct syllables upon a hitched breath as a finger brushes against a nipple. And there he plants his first — the mark that will barely last a week, not long enough for a reminder but maybe enough to make him wonder when tomorrow comes.

( A fortnight ago: Minhyun’s fingers trace a pattern into his abdomen. A repeated picture, feathery against the flab of his stomach, making him laugh as Minhyun illustrates.

 _Sirius_ , Minhyun explains as his finger rests against Seongwoo’s skin and begins to launch into an introduction to the constellation it is a part of.

So Seongwoo lifts himself with his elbows, leaning close to peer into Minhyun’s eyes, and says: _why so_ serious? in order to avoid another night that dips into a topic Seongwoo is less than interested in.

Minhyun laughs, the one that borderlines obnoxious but has come to be a sound of endearment, collapsing onto the bed, clutching his stomach and Seongwoo lowers himself back down.

 _That’s not the same_ , Minhyun remarks in between breaths.

Seongwoo feigns innocence as he grins, _oh really?_  )

And so Seongwoo etches the same pattern into Minhyun’s skin, traveling down to his clavicles where the two ends meet and that junction where the sternum begins. Seongwoo drags his teeth along the edge, carefully spacing his marks, watching them blossom against pale skin as he works down Minhyun’s abdomen. Pauses for a second to admire the muscle tone, fingers splayed against skin, how it isn’t over the top but enough to make Seongwoo hum in appreciation and envy ( how he’s _just_ _right_ even in a place like this ).

Seongwoo’s fingers work at the button of Minhyun’s pants as he etches Adhara, the last star, against Seongwoo’s skin. “Help me out won’t you?” he remarks, chuckling under his breath.

It’s followed by an impatient huff that elicits another chuckle from Seongwoo’s lips and fingers that borderline clumsy as Minhyun hastily extricates himself from his pants. His underwear follows not long after: Seongwoo stopping Minhyun as he slides off the bed, sinking to his knees, hooking his fingers beneath the waistband, forcing Minhyun to buck his hips as he slides it off in a way that shows Minhyun this isn’t the first.

The hands snake back onto Minhyun’s skin, nails skidding, bringing him forward so that Seongwoo can continue his ministrations. A tongue that laves against the inner thigh, close enough to force Minhyun to groan Seongwoo’s name in frustration as he skips it entirely, fingers gripping onto a knee to steady himself. Seongwoo can’t help but smile when he catches the sheets bunching under Minhyun’s fingers from the corner of his eyes when he toys with Minhyun likes this. It almost makes him want to take Minhyun and bring him to the edge with his tongue and mouth alone. But he doesn’t. There are more satisfying ways to watch Minhyun fall apart.

Seongwoo’s fingers dig into the flesh of Minhyun’s ass, the other hand gently easing Minhyun back down so that his spine presses into the bed. He smiles, wicked. Minhyun’s eyes grow wide when Seongwoo’s thumb outlines Minhyun’s opening in slow, lazy circles until Minhyun relaxes.

And when Seongwoo slips his tongue past the tight ring, he watches as it dawns upon Minhyun that it isn’t the first time they’ve done this. Minhyun shudders, shivers, body remembering and chasing the pleasure of some instance before.

Minhyun’s face is a beautiful sheen of red, hair that clumps into strands and becomes plastered against his forehead, sweat that almost makes him glisten under this lighting. His head is thrown back, forcing the sheets to bunch under the pressure, eyes closed as lips form the shape of Seongwoo’s name — lips the same shade as his face. And Seongwoo wishes Minhyun could see himself through his eyes and maybe then Minhyun would understand why Seongwoo’s heart makes a ruckus in his chest, why his stomach ends up in knots, why the emotions make their way up his throat and chokes him in the middle of the night.

He pulls back. Minhyun’s eyes flutter open, chest heaving, as they trail Seongwoo’s trajectory.

Seongwoo’s fingers slide alongside the underside of Minhyun’s thigh, the side of his knee, and down the shins before he places his palm against the underside of Minhyun’s foot, holding it gently as he bends down. His bangs brush against the top of Minhyun’s foot before he presses his lips against the skin, feeling the bones underneath — an act kin to surrender.

A droplet lands against that span of skin, scalding. Minhyun’s heart twinges. He reaches for Seongwoo, gently cupping one cheek, lifting his head and captures a tear between his thumb and Seongwoo’s cheek.

The way Seongwoo smiles when he meets Minhyun’s eyes causes his heart to fracture. And Minhyun thinks that even if his mind forgets, when tomorrow comes, his body ( the heart ) will remember.

Seongwoo reaches up, placing his own hand over Minhyun’s, and turns to press another kiss into the palm of Minhyun’s hands before gently letting it go.

He stands. Unbuttons his own pants and let’s it drop to the ground, kicking it aside. He allows his lips to curl as he stands there for a moment doing absolutely nothing — letting Minhyun appreciate the black underwear he’s wearing ( the one Minhyun had bought for him a while ago ; the one Minhyun had taking a liking to because of how it hugged Seongwoo’s ass, accentuating the shape and the curve ). And Minhyun does. The way his eyes gives Seongwoo’s body a once over sends tiny pin pricks up his spine.

So Seongwoo slides it off, slowly, purposefully keeping eye contact as he bends until it, too, joins the pile on the ground.

He joins Minnyun then, seemingly about to draw him in for a kiss before he reaches over Minhyun, retrieving the supplies they had stocked in the drawer of the bedside table, followed by the usual routine of condom and lube and—

There’s a small whine that tumbles out. Seongwoo, on a different day, would probably have allowed a smirk to mar his face and be difficult and frustrating as Minhyun calls him out for being a tease. But the Seongwoo, today, only thinks of the hands of the clock and how there will never be enough. The _Minhyun_ that he utters is hushed, laced with the same edge of desperation as he replaces his fingers with his cock, as if in a prayer to invoke the attention of the only one that matters — the only one that can grant your request.

Seongwoo groans as the head of his cock pushes past the tight ring. It always feels like the very first time. The same thrum of emotions that echo through his veins, the same trill of pleasure that synapses through nerves, the same thoughts that cause the chest to expand to a point it almost hurts.

And inch by inch until he bottoms out, halting every once in a while for adjustment to ease Minhyun’s mind more than body, Seongwoo leans forward and holds the back of Minhyun’s head, slotting his mouth against Minhyun’s, pressing in for another kiss. Minhyun’s legs wrap around Seongwoo’s waist, pushing him closer, locking him in place.

So Seongwoo moves, sliding in and out, establishing a pace, one hand finding Minhyun’s and interlocking their fingers, forcing Minhyun to look into his eyes and hopefully remember them even after falling asleep.

So Seongwoo moves, sliding in and out, establishing a pace that has begun to toe the line. Minhyun meets him, forcing Seongwoo to gasp Minhyun’s name into his mouth, against his neck, into the air. A mantra for salvation. Until the only sounds in the room are that of skin against skin and mingled breaths becoming one. The bustling city of Seoul muted in the background.

The even pace doesn’t last long. Seongwoo’s hips stutter in tandem with his heart, half a beat off Minhyun’s.

When Minhyun cums, toes curling, back arching: the final resting place for Seongwoo’s name is on the tip of Minhyun’s tongue, at the base of Minhyun’s throat, and reverberates deep within Minhyun’s heart. ( As if it’ll stay lodged there forever. ) Seongwoo finally understands why there’s an obsession with ruining something beautiful — making it yours — so he drives in deep enough one last time, chasing after Minhyun, and plummets off the edge. ( Minhyun’s name long imprinted into the fabric of his soul. )

 

 

 

Night has fallen. Normally, Minhyun would have chided him for all the tied condoms litered on the floor. But he’s fallen asleep in the few minutes Seongwoo had spent trying to clean himself up. And all Seongwoo wants to do is the same thing — curl up and fall asleep next to him — hygiene and tomorrow be damned.

The ring tone for his phone cuts through the night.

“If the first thing he sees is you when he wakes up,” Jeonghan warns, tone nonchalant, “then our deal is off.”

“I know,” Seongwoo replies, voice as tight as the clenched fist, fighting the urge to snap back or hang up because it was that sort of ill manner that landed him in this situation in the first place.

“Good,” Jeonghan sounds, pleased. The connection ends.

“Damn demon,” Seongwoo mutters under his breath as he glances at Minhyun. Minhyun stirs and Seongwoo holds his breath until Minhyun stays still again.

He takes one last tour of the apartment: placing his items into the carrier and maybe one or two of their shared memories, hoping that in his possession they wouldn’t be destroyed. Even if Minhyun did forget and fail to remember, maybe these memories would be enough for Seongwoo for what once was.

He returns to the bedroom last. Minhyun is still asleep. Seongwoo smiles fondly. The bed dips under his weight as he seats himself, allowing himself to take one long look at Minhyun, and maybe try to immortalized this moment in his heart, enshrine it in his memories for all of eternity. Carefully, he reaches out, brushing back Minhyun’s bangs, and leans forward to press his lips against Minhyun’s forehead one last time.

“See you tomorrow, Minhyunnie.”

**Author's Note:**

> The E rating is because I read Lover Boy when the prompt was sent in and I was in the mood for wall to wall smut (which no longer applies but I still... gotta push through). Hello to my fourth (and still a failed) attempt at body worship.
> 
> Jeonghan being the demon is probably a reference only one person will get *throws aggressive hearts at* I love you.
> 
> This prompt deserves like a long 30k with full blown angst and semi slowburn but my heart isn't strong enough for this so...
> 
> *sweats aggressively* because I love my switches and it pains me to have the count be 3 to 1 (I'll make it up somehow) but lately I've also been craving debauched!Minhyun (thank my kouhai for me will you?)
> 
> I stared at way too many pictures of [Hwang](https://twitter.com/my_optimushwang/status/944220598275678208?ref_src=twcamp%5Eshare%7Ctwsrc%5Eios%7Ctwgr%5Eph.telegra.Telegraph.Share) [Minhyun](https://koreaboo-cdn.storage.googleapis.com/2017/08/youngjae-1-1.jpg) while writing this. Please feel as [attacked](https://0.soompi.io/wp-content/uploads/2017/07/16210841/Wanna-One-Hwang-Min-Hyun.jpg) as I [did](https://media.giphy.com/media/cmsckawiWGMG4/giphy.gif). Really, what was I [thinking](https://twitter.com/i_onghwang_i/status/947056415671119872)...
> 
> So. Uh. About moles. God bless onghwang for starting this new year off right and serenity capturing [this picture](https://twitter.com/950809serenity/status/947554621358096384) from this angle and if you squint they have MATCHING MOLES ON OPPOSITE SIDES AT THE EXACT SAME SPOT #FATE. If anyone is interested the [three chest moles](https://twitter.com/bnm__mxm/status/943120116358684674) bye.


End file.
